Umm.....

I was at the Mall of Georgia yesterday measuring a wall. The wall was over 50 ft long, and the tape measure I had wasn't half that distance, so I would have to measure as far as I could, mark my spot, then measure again from the mark, and so on and so on until I knew the total width. When I neared the end of the wall, I had somewhere between 6 and 8 feet left to measure, so I held the end of the tape measure out, hoping to hook the end of it to the end of the wall. The tape measure kept giving out under its weight and falling limply to the ground. After the third try, I was about to give up and try a different method, when an older man happened to be walking by. He picked up the end of the tape measure and hooked it to the wall, thus allowing me to get my final measurement.

I thanked him, and I thought that was going to be it. His response - He slapped me on my butt and then - holding out a limp, droopy finger - said "Yeah, that tape measure reminded me of ma' dick".

Nice old man to creepy old man in 1.5 seconds. That has to be some kind of a record, right?

Rumble at the beach

Sorry kids, it's a long one...

Last week we had our annual Swanson Family Vacation. Almost every year I have been a part of the family, we have gone to Myrtle Beach, SC. This year, however, we decided to do things a little differently. Instead of the 4 bedroom condo in MBSC, we went with a house in Destin, FL. This house, coincidentally, is about a mile and a half from where Kimberly and I stayed on our honeymoon (awwww).

This story isn't about the vacation as a whole, though. This story is about our first 5 hours in Destin.

We arrived at the house at 3:30 pm on Saturday. Kimberly's dad (Kent) and the homeowner had established that we would arrive between 2:00 and 4:00. When we pulled up, we were surprised to find three cars and a number of beach chairs in the driveway. Standing there a little confused, we tried to understand what exactly was happening. Kent called the homeowner, who actually lived in a second building that was attached to the house by a walkway. Within moments he was standing in the driveway with us, and this was his story:

Guys, I'm so sorry. We had a huge storm, and the electricity has been out all day and actually just now came back on. The people in the house right now are packing up and they should be out soon. Then we'll go through and clean, and we'll get you right in.

A little weird, but okay. I mean, why would the power being out delay the departure of the previous residents by hours?

It was around this time (Kent, Rosary, Andy, and I were standing in the driveway with the homeowner) that we turned around to see 5-6 people in swimsuits walking up the street. They walked past us in the driveway, up the stairs and into the house. Our house. These people didn't look like they were getting ready to go anywhere. The homeowner (Keith) by this point had stepped out into the street and was trying to (or attempting to look like he was trying to) call someone and get to the bottom of this. In the meantime, a couple of people came out of the house and were talking to Rosary. They explained to her that no, they were not leaving. They had signed a contract and paid Keith to stay an extra day, leaving Sunday. If this is true, then we (nine of us, including three children ages 6, 3, and 2) have nowhere to stay for the night.

When presented with the news of what the residents said, Keith responded with a disgusted look on his face - "No, that's not true! They never signed a contract to stay an extra day!" It should be noted throughout the duration of this ordeal, Kent had his signed contract, along with copies of all correspondance with Keith, in hand. For reasons we couldn't really discern, Keith just wasn't walking over to the other residents and giving them the boot.

By this time, almost an hour had passed. Keith was going back and forth between us, the other reesidents, and his cell phone. There was no resolution in sight. He just kept pacing, looking nervous, and going back to his story about the power being out. Despite the other residents' insistence that they had signed a contract to stay an extra day, they were yet to produce actual proof of this. They seemed like nice enough people at the time. When we had been there for a while, Ashlyn had to go potty, so the let us in to use the bathroom. Also, they brought out popsicles for the kids - it was freaking hot outsite! On the surface, it appeared that Keith had double-booked, and even if it was an honest mistake, the situation was his fault. Also, during a conversation with these people, Rosary was told that the house was not really up to snuff. Of the 5 or 6 TV's in the house, only two of them actually worked - plus Keith was really strange and had people coming and going constantly during the week, and at one point, he actually knocked on the door and asked them to give him a ride to the store (all of these claims were found later to be grossly exaggerated).

At this point, Keith told us if we can just go out for a little while, check out the things to do in Destin and just mill around, everything would be resolved by the time we got back. Kent told him we'd give him two hours, and we walked across the street to the beach. Well, all of us but one. Rosary wasn't having any of it. She parked herself on the curb and waited for the resolution.
We sat on the pavilion by the beach for a while - I have no idea how long. We kept the kids entertained with sno cones. Finally, Kent got a call from Rosary. The previous residents were being kicked out and currently huffing and puffing and hastily throwing their things into the car.

By this time I'm guessing it was around 6:00 pm. This was good news in that we no longer were worried with the possibility that we may have to go out and find a hotel for 9 people for the night (maybe longer, who knows). The downside was that the house still had to be cleaned before we moved in. The cleaning crew had been contacted and was on their way. They arrived promptly and got started. At that point Kimberly, Kristen, and Rosary went to the grocery store while Andy and I put swimsuits on the kids and headed to the beach killing more time until the house was actually ready to be occupied.

At last, sometime between 8:30 and 9:00, the cleaning crew was gone. The groceries, some Domino's pizza, 6 adults, and three children, and all their luggage were in the house. The only real casualties were 5 hours of the afternoon and the key to the neighborhood pool (which we believe was taken by the previous residents - Keith got us a new key a few days into the vacation).

THE EXPLANATION

Keith definitely seemed a little "off" in our conversations with him. We learned that about ten years ago, his fiance, twin brother, (and father? - I can't remember) were killed in a plane crash. That apparently gave him some emotional and psycholocial problems that he is still dealing with. Additionally, three years ago, he was in a motorcycle accident in which he suffered some form of brain damage. Before all of this, he was apparently a really bright guy who earned a lot of money from an invention having to do with microderm abrasion (not sure exactly what).

He really is a nice guy. What likely happened was that he felt so bad about the power going out, that he told the people they could stay for a little while longer, probably meaning a few hours. They took it as "Stay as long as you want". From what I heard over the course of the week, this group of people are among a larger number of people who have tried to take advantage of Keith's situation over the years. They were completely willing to use that guy's courtesy to them as a tool to essentially force a family of nine to either make other arrangements at a much larger cost or turn around and drive 7 hours back home (which actually was discussed at one point).

But, everything turned out quite well. After the first day's conflict, the rest of the week went without a hitch (with the exception of the mishap involving my dog back home, but that's another story for another day).

Funny side note, later in the week I had a conversation with Keith and Sonya (a woman he referred to as his manager). Keith, again, was profusely apologizing for everything that transpired on the first day. I told him not to worry and that everything is fine now, and we love the house. We discussed what time on Saturday we would be packing up and leaving. Sonya mentioned that Kent had told her 10:00. I said that it will likely even be earlier than that. Keith's reply was "Oh, well, I mean, stay longer if you'd like! The next people aren't coming in until late, and as long as we have just a little while to go through and clean, you guys are welcome to make yourselves at home for as long as you want!"

It's a good thing we're nice people...

Blasphemy!

I have two confessions to make. One I will make now, and the other I will make momentarily.

Confession #1: I'm a huge baseball fan (gasp!)
I know, I know. I have hidden it so well for all these years, right? I'm one of these guys that just finds something pure, something beautiful within the game. It doesn't even have to be a Braves game (obviously my team of choice). If there isn't a Braves game on, I'd gladly watch two other teams duke it out. Earlier in the spring, I took Cohen to a game between the Georgia Bulldogs and the Alabama Crimson Tide, despite not liking either team (or school), just because it was my first chance of the year at seeing real, live baseball.

I have been somewhat of a "Baseball Purist" for most of my life. I didn't want to mess with tradition. Lately, though, I have had a revelation of sorts. I was watching the Blue Jays and Red Sox play - both American League teams.

Okay, before I go any further, I will (try to) breifly explain for anyone who doesn't follow baseball at all. Just to be safe, I'll give the "for dummies" version. Major League Baseball is divided into two leagues - National and American. There are few real differences between the two, but there is one glaring difference: the Designated Hitter (DH). The American League uses the DH, and the National League (in which the Braves play) does not. The DH takes the place of the pitcher in the batting lineup. Therefore, the pitchers do not bat. The DH is usually a player whose defense isn't necessarily up to snuff, but who is still a good batter. A lot of fans (Purists) are adamantly against the idea of the DH, if for no other reason, because it flies in the face of baseball tradition. It changes the rules that have always been in place for the sake of making the game more exciting.

Anyway, I was watching the Jays and Red Sox play a few days ago. It was starting to look like a blowout. After 3 innings, the Jays were up 7-0. Then, the Red Sox started to come back. Going into the 9th, the Jays had a 9-7 lead. I wondered what part of the lineup was coming up, and whether the pitcher's spot was soon in the lineup, and then it occurred to me - there is no pitcher's spot in the lineup. These lineups were both loaded with offense. It made for a very exciting 9th inning.

Then it hit me. Other than an unreasonable sense of wanting to hold on to something "because it's what we've always done", what good reason is there to not have that same thing in the National League?

Confession #2: I'm in favor of the DH
It almost hurts to say that. I've been against it my whole life, but I can't deny it anymore. First off, it makes the game more exciting, plain and simple. Literally, it's the idea of taking your worst hitter out of the lineup and replacing him with a much better hitter. What's not to like?
Secondly, it is simply a proven fact that Major League pitchers cannot hit as well as position players. I do not know why. My assumption is that they spend all their time concentrating on pitching, and neglect hitting. Regardless of the reasoning, the DH rule has proven to be a good thing in the American League since it was adopted in 1973.

Whew. There, I said it. I really feel better. I know I'm going to catch a lot of flack from my baseball purist fans, but I think I'm prepared to deal with it.

Now, if we could only increase the use of instant replay....(dun dun dunnnn!)

Cruise Blog 2: The food

Everything I ate over the course of the cruise was good. Everything, from the dining room to the buffet upstairs, to the pizza bar.

Every morning, we headed up to the buffet for breakfast - Scrambled eggs, omelettes, bacon, sausage, waffles, pancakes, oatmeal, grits, donuts, bagels, English muffins, toast, cereal, fruit. Really, anything a person would normally want for breakfast was available. Oh yeah, and baked beans(?).

At lunch, I think the buffet changed it up a little from day to day. I know there were various chicken and pork options. Plus there was the guy carving beef every day. There were always coldcuts available for sandwiches. There was a decent selection of sides, breads, and desserts, too. None of this mattered to me, though. They had a hamburger bar. And the burgers (and hot dogs) were good. That being said, I really had a hamburger and a hot dog every day for lunch...with the exception of our day at Coco Cay, where I had a hamburger, a hot dog, and a couple of pork ribs. The fries were amazing, too. Thicker than McDonalds, but thinner than Five Guys. Crispy as crispy can be. Delicious.

Dinner was the star of the show, though. The atmosphere was very nice and upscale, and the food reflected that. I don't remember what dishes I had on what night, but over the course of the week, I had lamb, roasted duck, escargot, shrimp and mahi mah...wait, what? Escargot?

Yes, I ate snails. Actually, we all ate snails. They were served in a delicious garlicy, buttery, crusty goodness. Kimberly first bit the bullet by ordering it as an appetizer. When our waiter saw that we were all trying it, he took it upon himself to bring each of us an order of our own. I'm pretty sure every last bit of it was eaten.

Please note above that our waiter took the liberty of bringing us all extra dishes. This was common throughout the week. If you couldn't decide between the steak and the shrimp, well, just order both! It's all included in the price we already paid. Two appetizers? No problem. Two entrees? Go ahead!

One would think that you'd gain a lot of weight on a cruise. I'm not going to lie, it is entirely possible, but 1) While there was a good bit of lounging on this trip, there was also a good bit of walking. We took the stairs more often than the elevators, and 2) We danced. A lot. Good exercise.

So, to wrap it up, the food could not have been better.

Next time I'll get into the people we encountered on this trip. There were quite a few characters.

Cruise Blog 1

Kimberly and I just finished a 4 night Bahamas cruise with Kristen (Kimberly's sister) and Andy (Kristen's husband). There were enirely too many cool/fun/hilarious things about the trip to put into one blog post, so I'll break it up into sections. First section will be the ship:

From my understanding, the Monarch of the Seas is small in comparison to other ships. It houses about 2,000 guests (along with the 800 crew members). I have heard that other ships hold around 4,000 to 5,000 guests. Regardless, having never been on a cruise, I was still impressed by it. Most of the ship had 11 floors, with the exception of one end, which went up to the 14th floor, where a circular bar could be found.

In the middle of the ship was a large, multi-floor lobby. From this lobby, one could easily reach the dining rooms, the collection of duty-free stores, the casino, and the piano bar.

The staterooms were nice. Small, like everyone told me they would be, but nice nonetheless. No difference - we were rarely in our room. It had two beds that had already been slid together to make one queen-size bed, an adequate closet, a tiny bathroom, a tiny TV, and that's about it.

There were two pools on the (second from the) top deck. Both were saltwater pools that we learned were filled with ocean water pumped through a filtering system. We spent most of the pool time lounging on the balcony deck that overlooked the pools.

There were two clubs: Boleros and The Circuit. Boleros was where the bulk of the people hung out. It was where most of the games, karaoke, and dance lessons were held. The Circuit was more the late-night dance club. If one has enough to drink and lets go of the concept of embarrassment, one can have a really good time dancing at The Circuit. That party usually started around 11:00pm and was still going strong at 2:00 or 3:00 when we decided to turn in for the night.

There were two main dining rooms (that I know of). Each party generally was assigned one of the two. There was also the Windjammer Cafe next to the pool that housed a buffet that was open almost all the time, only closing overnight and shortly between meals to prepare for the next meal. Inside the Windjammer was also a Pizza bar that was open just about any time someone had a hankering for pizza. It should be noted that the Windjammer had a soft serve ice cream machine, and I never knew until this week how much people LOVE soft serve ice cream. There was almost ALWAYS a line.
The food - ALL of the food - was good. I'll get into that in another post, though.

That I'm aware of (there are probably more that I never saw or that I don't remember), there were no fewer than 9 bars. In addition, there was ALWAYS a server walking around that was more than willing to bring you a drink. If one wanted a beverage of any kind, one would never have to wait more than about 5 minutes. Alcohol was extra, but when you aren't paying for food, it doesn't seem that bad.

I'd really like to try another ship next time, but to be honest, my experience on this one was so good that I don't want to mess with a good thing. We'll see, though, as my wheels are already turning for making another cruise happen.

Play it cool, Daniel

I was riding at the park yesterday, minding my own business*. I had just climbed a hill of medium difficulty and was enjoying the fruits of my labor (read: getting to go really fast down the other side of said hill), when ahead of me is a cute girl....

Before I go any further, let me explain. I'm not some sleazeball who ogles other women despite the fact that I'm married. When I'm riding at the park, there are women all around. Some are cute, and some are not-so-cute. It makes no difference to me, though, because I just pass them and keep on riding, no big deal.

...anyway

So, ahead of me was a cute girl. I have no intentions of trying to impress this girl. I just want to ride past her and go about my way. BUT, while I have no intentions of trying to impress her, I most certainly do not want to make an ass out of myself in front of her. As I'm starting my "I-recognize-you-are-of-above-average-attractiveness-but-sorry-you're-nowhere-near-as-hot-as-my-wife-so-I'm-going-to-make-it-evident-that-you're-no-big-deal-in-my-mind-and-I'll-go-about-my-business" routine (which takes about 1/10 of the time to act out as it did to type), the girl and I got closer to passing each other. About 15 feet away from each other, I prepared for my .2 second eye contact and courtesy nod (which I offer to everyone - man, woman, cute, or uncute). Just by chance, during that 1/5 of a second, THWAPP! A larger-than-average bug smacked me dead-center on my forehead.

I have no idea what kind of bug this was, but it was big. And it made me freak out and instinctively start slapping at my forehead like an idiot, right as I passed the girl. Then, about 20 feet (or, about half a second) later, the bug was gone and I finished my ride, having failed in my attempt to "play it cool" for the girl I had no intention of impressing in the first place. The entire episode had lasted, beginning to end, about 4-5 seconds.

*Minding my own business, plus minding the business of the path-hog, unaware, completely ovlivious to the fact that the line painted down the middle of the path indicates that the path is to be treated like a road (STAY ON YOUR SIDE!) walkers

Cohen's new jam.

Pibe lil muntnee jutt mon bed
Un fall opp...bupp nis add
Mamma taw dot tow, dot tow sad
Noma muntee jutt mon bed!

Daniel and Cohen: Boys of Summer

Last night was my monthly Father/Son night (the night when Kimberly has dinner with school friend(s), and I get to hang out with the kid). Normally, we just lay low at the house, doing our normal, nightly thing, sans mommy.

Over the past few weeks I've seen a sign at CoolRay Field (home of the Gwinnett Braves) advertising SEC Baseball on March 9th. UGA would be hosting Alabama in the first annual "Gwinnett Spring Classic" (or something). I decided on a whim that (against Kimberly's recommendation), I would take Cohen to the game - at least for a little while - to see how he likes it and gauge whether he'd be able to handle more games as the real baseball season goes on.

Kid freaking loved it.

Granted, we were only there for two innings (trial basis, plus bedtime, plus it was cold), but after a batter or two, he was really getting into it. After every pitch, he'd throw his hands up and yell "STRIKE!". After every ball hit, fair or foul, he pointed and said "WHOA!", then he'd spend the next 15-20 seconds telling me that the batter hit the ball and informing me where the ball went. He clapped when our team (we chose Bama) did well, and repeated my "Aww, man!", when something didn't go our way.

He didn't want to leave, but being the responsible parent that I am, I insisted that we hit the road at 7:45. We were home by 8:00, and he was bathed, pajama'd, teethbrushed and in bed by 8:30.

The night was a total success, and I cannot wait to take him to countless more games...specifically over the course of this summer, but more importantly, over the course of his childhood.

This is going to be our thing.

Cohen to English Dictionary

My friend Lily (whose awesome blog can be read at bilslandfamily.blogspot.com) just put up a post translating some of the things her boys say. It was pretty funny, and I realized that my son has a few of those as well. Whereas Lily's translations were more in the line of five-year-old speak (getting some words confused with other words, completely made up words and phrases and their meanings, etc.), my translations will be from the distorted, "Cohen version" of the word to the actual word. Cohen is trying to say the real word, however two-year-olds can often be difficult (if not impossible) to understand.

1. Thatty - Daddy

2. Nomine - Snowman

3. Tawww - Car

4. Bee Tutt - Big Truck

5. Aaaa-poot-nat - Fruit Snacks

6. Seet - Sixx (our cat)

7. Thhhhhe The - CC (our dog)

8. Ahbe Ite Batt - I'll Be Right Back (accompanied by holding up one finger as if to say "wait a minute"). This statement is used if he's the one leaving the room, as well as if someone else is leaving the room.

9. Wess - Yes

10. Bah (sometimes "Bobby") - Pacifier (I don't get this one. No one ever called it a Bah. We always referred to it as his paci. I still do, however Kimberly has now started playing along and referring to it as his bah. Hopefully this translation will not be necessary for much longer, as the kid need to get off that thing)

11. Nowan - Cohen

12. Ah deet nown - I get down (while I'd love to tell you this is a description of his dancing ability, it is actually what he says when he'd like help getting down from his chair at the dinner table, or if someone is holding him)

13. Dat moine! - That's mine! (which actually translates to "Would you please give that to me?", regardless of whether the object in question actually belongs to him)

14. Aff - Elephant

15. Line - Lion

16. Line - Tiger

17. Thatty, deet opp! - Daddy, get up (this is usually in the middle of my eating dinner, and he wants me to stop doing that and play in his room).

18. Raaaawwww - The sound of a lion, tiger, bear, allitagor, shark (accompanied by holding both hands up as claws)

19. Seet deet me - Sixx got me (this is used to describe any cut or bruise he may have, regardless of whether Sixx actually got him, or if he fell down, or bumped his head, or just about anything)

A lot of these are starting to dwindle away, as he is starting to pronounce things better at a surprising rate. I guess this is a good thing, but I kind of like being able to figure out and translate (most of) his jibberish.

Okay, Paul. Let's do this.

I just heard "50 Ways To Leave Your Lover", by Paul Simon.

I don't know where to begin to describe how full of crap this song is. I guess I'll just start with the obvious. The chorus states:

You Just slip out the back, Jack
Make a new plan, Stan
You don't need to be coy, Roy
Just get yourself free
Hop on the bus, Gus
You don't need to discuss much
Just drop off the key, Lee
And get yourself free

50 Ways? I'd like to consider myself atleast slightly above average in everyday math, but by my first count, that was only five, Paul. Actually, the number is up for discussion. For example:

1. Slip out the back, Jack. Okay, that's one way.
2. Make a new plan, Stan. Is that really a way to leave your lover? Make a new plan? I don't think it is. That's just kind of stating the obvious. If you want to leave your lover, you are already making a new plan. Let's try #2 again:
2. You don't need to be coy, Roy. Nope, that's not a way to leave your lover, either.
2. Just get yourself free. It's a stretch, but since the initial guidelines are a little loose to begin with, I'll run with it. Okay, "Get yourself free" will be allowed.
3. Hop on the bus, Gus. Okay, you could do that.
4. Just drop off the key, Lee. That is acceptable, as well.

Okay, we have four ways to leave your lover. It should be noted that what we counted as (the already deemed questionable) "Way number 2" is repeated at the end of the chorus.

On to my next problem: All of these "ways to leave your lover" are really just ways to leave...anything. I needed to get home from school, so I hopped on the bus. I moved out of my apartment, so I dropped off the key. This song claims that there are all these ways to leave your lover, but I contend that they're just ways to get yourself from one place to another. He might as well have said that ways to leave your lover include: car, bicycle, on foot, horseback, roller skates, etc.

I guess that wouldn't have been as catchy.

Finally, (and admittedly, facetiously), it seems that these ways aren't just for anyone. Slipping out the back is apparently only applicable to guys named Jack. If I want to hop on the bus, I'm out of luck, because my name is Daniel. I just find it hard to believe that Paul Simon, great, heralded American songwriter Paul Simon, would write such silliness simply for the purpose of making his chorus rhyme.

So, we're left with four suggestions of ways to leave your lover, not the advertised fifty. Additionally, only one of the four is applicable to everyone, whereas the other three are name-specific. The only one that applies to all of us is "Just get yourself free".

That's what you've got for me, Paul? You come at me claiming you have fifty ways to leave my lover, and I'm left with one vague suggestion?

I think I'll stick with "Call Me Al", where I can't understand the lyrics enough to disect them.